


We Are Nowhere And It's Now

by homeisnowhere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: :-(, :-), AU, Anyways, Homestuck - Freeform, Humanstuck, I dont even care bye, M/M, Sadstuck, alien anatomy is hot and whatever but, bye now dumb shits love me, ily kissu kissy kisshisu, ok, should i do humanstuck, sorry angels, sort of sadstuck, this is just, this will continue i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homeisnowhere/pseuds/homeisnowhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat wants to be a Warbler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Nowhere And It's Now

**Author's Note:**

> this is for my gay friend sarah kiss kiss
> 
>  
> 
> also 2nd part comin' soon

Your name is Karkat Vantas and, finally, after excessive amounts of ROM-COMs on replay, like 27 Dresses, Over Her Dead Body and Juno, it's a late Saturday night and you are sighing out loud in a bored heap of flesh curled up on the couch parallel to your sliding door, leading out to the backyard. Deciding against putting in another movie, you uncurl yourself from your confined ball-like positing and fling your legs over the edge of the sofa. You push off of the couch, your tailbone hurting dully from hours of sitting down, and begin to walk aimlessly around your house. Possibly, you're looking for something to quench your thirst for excitement but honestly, you weren't really interested in watching another movie. And you really didn't have anybody to watch them with. But they would probably hate those kinds of movies, make dumb commentary, diss you and you would probably return the compliment by punching them right square in their stupid fucking nose.

You decide to lay back down, staring at the ceiling. It was really lonely, honestly. Everybody else had something to do, people to see, places to be. And here you were, laying on a sofa on a Saturday night after having a ROM-COM marathon. Honestly, what's wrong with you? You flip over onto your stomach and sigh into the arm rest, annoyed, blindly reaching out to the desk at the end of the couch for a remote. It's the fairly smaller remote among all of it's other kin so it's also fairly easy to find among the clutter on the table. You grumpily bash onto the buttons, hoping you're doing something right, and sigh contently when the CD Player turns on, your 'The Antlers' CD turning on, _'Prolugue' _always gave you chills. The mixed piano and the quiet sound of a wind moving though a drafty window, or the way the singers sounded something like sirens. You don't know what it is. Either the gentle piano or the voice continually pulling you into and out of consciousness._   
  
You are thankful that the songs are all about more than 5 minutes long. You hated when people complained about songs being too long. Like shut the fuck up, the artist has a lot to say so listen. God damn. You consider this to be better than your self-admittedly crappy movies. Hell, maybe even Egbert has better movie sense than you. Nah, impossible. Your movies were the best and though nobody else wanted to say it, they knew it too. You have the best movie taste everybody can go fuck themselves with a cactus in their shitter. But the violent thoughts die down as 'Kettering' vibrates through the air, the calming lyrics slowing your breathing as you turn onto your back once again. You reach once again for another remote, to turn off the ghostly glow of the television. It was not meshing well with the mood you were tryna' create. _

Though all lights are off, the lights glowing in from the Texas horizon, the busy city and cars driving by, you still catch your shadow against the wall as you raise your hand, trying to reach for the ceiling. You imagine your arms growing like sunflowers, big and yellow. You want them to sway in the wind, reaching the clouds. Their tops being sunburnt from the proximity. What a silly thought, Karkat. You are a human, not a frilly flower. Stop being creative. Creativity is frowned upon by society. They like everybody to be the same. _You can't be different. _Your fingers make a shape, something like a bird and you smile internally._  
  
You loved birds. You loved the way they were so small, their frail chests like cocoons, bursting with life. Or a cage, the fragile ribs encasing their heart. It was like, when they were grounded, their cage was locked, but when they took flight, it was unlocked and their heart had room to fly, too. It was all very touching. And for a second, you want to be a bird. Out of all the birds you had ever seen, you will never forget the one that perched onto your balcony upstairs about a week ago, just looking at you with hollow eyes. You wondered how much the bird had seen, what it was like to fly. It's golden colour jumping out in contrast to the snowy sky. You wondered why it wasn't migrating. It was awfully odd for it to snow in Texas, though. You had never seen anything like it. But the sun still perched behind the biting coldness, making everything a little less miserable._

Being the curious child you were, and even though you knew that the odds were against you as you were determined to get close to the bird. Slowly, very slowly, you stepped towards it, covering your mouth with your hand as to not breathe too heavily. You didn't want it to get scared. Your pointed finger extended carefully towards the animal, it's head bobbing gently, cooing softly. It's head pushed forward slightly, beak came closer to you, barely brushing the tip of your extended finger. Your stomach fluttered, it was so beautiful. Then the unexpected happened.  
  
It hopped onto your finger, perching delicately onto you. You gasped in awe, though the sound was muffled slightly by your hand clamped down onto your mouth. It fluttered its wings slightly, shivering against the breeze rolling in from the outside, turning it's head to the side occasionally. You then took your hand away from you mouth, cautiously as you had approached it the first time, your fingers extending out tenderly against it's small head. It leaned into your touch, cooing softly again, as if it's a hum of approval. You allow a small smile to spread across your face because it was so wonderful to have something trust you so much. Because animals never judged humans based on looks. Humans judged human based on looks. And it made you sick. Though you never imagined you would soon stoop that low. You constantly judged other people. If they had nice clothes, you figured they had a good family life. And if they wore shades, they were instantly and eternally a huge pompous douchebag.

Always have been. Always will be.

The bird began to hobble up your hand, arm and eventually rested on your shoulder. You then realised it looked like someone you knew. Someone who wore glasses. Someone as gold as the sun, their voice, when they didn't know how to control it, sounded like a coo in and of itself. Someone you always knew and your eyes crushed shut, a wave of melancholy washing over you as you remembered his name. His face, everything. The glances exchanged, the words he said, how he held himself. Every fucking little thing about David Strider. You remembered and as if the bird felt the tension, it pecked at your hair, as if to get your attention and you said quietly in response, "Go away, Dave."

It cooed in a small response, it's eyes searching yours once more as it glided onto the railing of the balcony. You wanted it to go. You wanted Dave to stay. Damn it. It's wings expanded immensely and it was probably the most beautiful, if not heartbreaking thing you have ever seen. The golden bird seemed to melt into the sun as it flew into the horizon. You managed a small coo in it's direction. It couldn't hear you anymore, though.

_'Wake' _is playing by now, it's melancholy backdrop, the sharp intake of breath. Absolutely stunning. It's one of those songs that makes you stop and think about everything. Life, your wrong doings, people. Honestly, you really don't have it in you to be so angry when you're alone. You're just indifferent and it reminds you of Dave. His poker face and how nothing ever seems to phase him, threats nor word vomit makes him flush. Nothing and you mean nothing, except for when you make physical contact with him. You don't understand why he flinches away but you just assume it's a " _Strider Thing _".____

It makes you uneasy. Really, it does. Dave seems like such a stotic kid, you never know what he's really feeling and you'd never admit it, but you feel a pang of guilt and fear for him sting into a crevice in your heart. It must be hard, you think, to be raised by a brother like Dirk. He has such high expectations of Dave. You wonder what Dave would be like if he weren't raised by his Bro. Maybe he'd look different. Different hair, different clothes or maybe even a different attitude. But honestly and deep down, you appreciate his comments. They're frustrating but amusing none-the-less. But you'd never let anybody know that. You'd never even crack a smile in his direction while he's looking at you. Never let your guard down, Vantas. Maybe that's what Bro says to Dave. _Never let your guard down, Lil' Man... ___

You begin to drift away, that knot in your throat still growing bigger and bigger as you think of Dave. How bad you have it for him. How bad you feel for him. How bad he is for you.. How bad ...

 

How good he was.  
  
And the music sways you into a half-sleep state and the last thing you remember is the soft words.  
  
 _But I just don't know where to begin_  
  
  
 _I just want to bust down the door ___  
  
  
 _If you're willing to forgive, ___  
  
  
 _I've got the keys, ___  
  
  
 _I'm letting people in... ___  
  
  
  
Goodnight.


End file.
